Enamored
by Colourless Palette
Summary: Peeta Mellark is the golden boy who yearns for the sole thing he cannot have – men. So it goes without saying that the addition of an equally impudent Gale, shameless flirting and stolen intimacy in the forest makes for a naughty little pressure-cooker.


_A naughty little tribute to the Hunger Games! Nothing is mine, although I do wish to own Peeta's hot little face. Please enjoy my first attempt at smutty fanfiction!  
_

Chapter 1

The first time Peeta voluntarily explored the woods initiated his impromptu love affair with nature. That was about the time the citizens of District 12 began their unrestrained celebration over the victory. More and more, Peeta found it hard to calm his heartbeat. The vociferous celebrations, the profuse adrenaline and the ringing in his ears became so intolerable that he actively sought out relief in the coarse wooden arms of a particular aged pine tree in the outskirts of his district.

This particular foggy afternoon our hero finds himself yet again perched atop his stoic friend with a million contemplations occupying his head. Today in particular he thinks about Katniss because he hadn't in a surprisingly long time. All public appearances aside, the dynamic duo rarely interacted and all intimacy dissipated upon their return. At most Katniss would direct him a knowing smile, and her quivers under his touch served as an indicator of a relationship gone stale.

Heck, what relationship? Peeta throws his head back on the log. There was no relationship to begin with. Not a substantial one, anyway.

"Besides," Peeta says aloud to the small mockingjay resting on his thigh, "THAT problem would make fidelity to Katniss impossible."

For our purposes I shall impart you this little secret, but know that it is exclusively for you.

Peeta Mellark is not a straight man.

Presently, fleeting images of the preceding nights displace Katniss in his mind. Since his return Peeta exploited his victor's status to embark on a revelatory adventure of self-discovery in various beds of Distrcit 12. There was Lenna, whose blue eyes scouted him out across the bakery, the slender legs of Kellie with whom he danced at the victors' afterparty, the ample chest of the hazel-skinned girl he winked at before the reaping and the sour odors that issued from the crevices of Sherille who was once a local celebrity due to her charm. Evidently women threw themselves at the golden boy's feet while envious men looked on. Peeta had it easy. But little did they know that the tournament champion had an unrequited lust of his own for a certain huntsman with a tanned face, shocking grey eyes and ripples in his taut stomach.

Peeta salivates slightly thinking about Gale. He first noticed Katniss' friend a few years before the reaping at an intersection, but their interaction didn't go beyond a fleeting gaze and a stranger's smile. Gale ignited a sort of flame in Peeta's young heart, which back then was greatly saturated with the kind of desire one encounters at the turn of puberty. From the chance encounter at the intersection onwards Peeta found himself noticing Gale more and more, to the point where the boy appeared everywhere, and at each occasion his sneaky eyes would drink in the sight of Gale's growing body. His loose apron did wonders to conceal his erections. Sometimes Peeta wondered how he survived so many years in a perpetual state of sexual arousal.

Years later, after surviving the 74th tournament, Peeta's eyes fell once more on the handsome boy who now stood a good foot above everybody else. He remembers gripping the balustrade so hard his knuckles went white. Now that they were both matured and in control of their faculties, Peeta recalls intensely willing a relationship to finally blossom.

For weeks after his return from the Capitol the lust-lorn victor conjured naughty scenes of himself making love with the huntsman from day till night in every possible flat surface. Fantasizing during straight sex no longer did the trick for him. He even solicited young boys, who invariably refused (even though they wanted it too) for fear of being discovered. Peeta yearned for the real thing, but unfortunately homosexuality was one of the major Panamian taboos.

A crack underfoot interrupts Peeta's racing thoughts. He squints in the fog and searches the understory for signs of movement. A broad figure sporting shades of beige and khaki comes into view and Peeta doesn't have to think twice to identify it. His heartbeat fires up like an engine and he inwardly thanks the gods for placing him in such an opportune position for a little voyeur.

What is Gale doing? Shouldn't he have something better to do? Or…or he may be hunting. I hope he hunts. I love watching him shoot arrows. Mmmmmm…I'd like to shoot some too –

Gale doesn't shoot anything, though. He circles around and places himself underneath Peeta's tree with a contented little sigh.

Peeta waits out a few minutes with his heart pounding at his ears. He strains his neck to see, a glimpse, a shadow, anything, but all he picks out is the top of Gale`s beautiful head. A few minutes later Peeta hears a sound so intimate it could've come from his own body – a tiny zipping accompanied by a discreet little moan that sends shivers up his spine. For a little peek Peeta is killing himself doing treetop acrobatics.

"Uhn. Ahh…"

The sounds stealing from Gale's lips send convulsions pulsating through Peeta's body. Gale is sure up to something…quite naughty.

"Ahhhh…yes…uhnnn yes yes - " he hisses.

Muscles too sore to hold him upright, Peeta falls back into his original position and surrenders his senses to the melodic little symphony Gale's lips offer just for his ears.

"Uhhhnnn…yes…do me…do it to me…"

Peeta's eyes widen to the size of saucers. He had never before encountered such a wanton version of the erstwhile discreet boy. He likes it. He likes it a lot. A seductive little smile plays at Peeta's lips and heat rushes down to his own crotch.

Gale continues to moan, growing more and more unrestrained by the second until his murmur escalates into a sharp whimper of pleasure, and through his melodic utterances Peeta hears dirty words like "fuck" and "screw me". Somewhere along the way Peeta's own hands found themselves around his penis as well, and to him jerking off to his crush's throaty cries seems like a fantasy half realized. Involuntarily Peeta murmurs the same sensual innuendos like, "fuck me baby…don't just sit there…come up and fuck me…" and realizes that Gale is too turned on to hear. Sex to Peeta is no longer foreign matter, not since his dalliances with various girls began. And with skilled fingers he brings himself to a little climax thanks to Gale's extremely audible masturbation.

Peeta is still fondling himself post-orgasm when Gale begins to talk. To himself or to a creature, Peeta can't tell. He smirks. Staying in the forest drives people mad, doesn't it?

"Are you going to tell on me now?" Gale chuckles. Peeta hears him rustling around in the leaves, perhaps putting his pants back on. "Are you going to tell all of District 12 that Gale jerked himself off to…"

Silence. To what? To what?

"Who am I kidding," Gale continues. "If people knew I'd have to make a run for it. Do you know what they do to homosexuals, you nonchalant squirrel? They cut their tongues, castrate them maybe, and put them forever between invisible boundaries of exile. But if I manage to escape to Capitol...I'm sure half the population is gay over there."

Peeta can hardly believe his ears. He suddenly doesn't know what to feel. Arousal having already wormed its way out of his system, Peeta's heart refills with something akin to relief and a strong empathy. He smiles to himself. It is as if Gale was already his. Once again he strains all the muscles in his neck to take a peek at Gale.

And then it happens. Maybe it's because he'd gained a substantial amount of weight from the parties, or maybe it's because he'd let his guard off way too soon and forgotten his dangerous position in a pine tree. Whatever the reason Peeta rolls promptly off the edge of his branch and in a daze of green and yellow and black and brown and a foggy grey sky he plummets to the understory like an eagle shot out of the air. Pants still undone, Peeta lands in an unceremonious heap at the foot of the tree with a dull thud. A searing pain simultaneously branches out from the small of his back and his hips and his head begins to spin uncontrollably. His face vibrates.

His vision goes blurry and his ears mute, like a stereo turned down to a mere hum. Suddenly a figure appears by his side and he squints just enough to make out Gale's twisted features and eyebrows that knit together in surprise and concern. His mouth is moving but the sounds are too distant; Peeta manages to take another hard look at Gale through blurred eyes. Upon feeling Gale's hands lie gently on his cheek Peeta wells up with unfathomably painful happiness and surrenders completely to the realms of a deep sleep.

_So...how was it? Haha. More to come.  
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End file.
